


a sky full of stars

by skyclectic



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Alternate Canon, F/F, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-15 22:08:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18081815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyclectic/pseuds/skyclectic
Summary: Love is nothing at all like the movies. Love, to Tzuyu at least, is not a burst of technicolour fireworks or a flurry of never-ending butterflies. Love is simple and still, everything that is found in Dahyun’s quiet surety, and in the beauty of her serene gravity.





	a sky full of stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [likeuwuahh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeuwuahh/gifts).



> a very happy birthday to you, @likeuwuahh !! you are the sky full of stars that light up the darkest of nights with your wonderful, soft soft heart. i hope you have an amazing day bb, you deserve it! <3

When she turns eight, Tzuyu thinks love is the way Mama takes a sip of Papa’s coffee before she gives it to him, just to make sure it tastes okay. Love is the way Papa smiles brighter than the sun when he comes home late at night, a smile he seems to reserve only for Mama, for her brother, for Tzuyu. 

When she turns eighteen, two years into stardom and a life on stage that unfolded out of her childhood dreams, Tzuyu thinks love is the ocean of unwavering support she receives in return. Love is the way eight other hands hold on to hers, the way eight other voices blend in harmony with hers, a magical kind of symphony. 

Love is also everything they say in every romantic movie Chaeyoung and her enjoy watching. Love is a flurry of butterflies, and your heart fluttering. Love is an all-consuming fever, a burst of technicolour fireworks, something that feels like it’s going to explode inside of you. 

It takes her a while longer to learn that love, in its truest form, is this; right here in the balcony of a hotel room in the heart of a foreign city, with a sky full of stars, that somehow holds no candle to the ones twinkling in the pool of Dahyun’s eyes. 

/

There was a time when Tzuyu used to count the number of different coloured stamps lining her passport pages; there was a novel thrill to visiting countries she’s only ever read off a map in school. But all she feels now is a kind of exhaustion that sinks deep beneath her bones, that lingers no matter how hard she tries to shake it off. 

It’s another long plane ride, in a life that has become a string of indistinguishable plane interiors and airport transits.Tzuyu settles restlessly in her seat, by the window this time, because she’s sitting with Dahyun who is always quick to offer the first choice of seat to whoever she’s paired with. 

Beside her, Dahyun is already absorbed in the book she’s currently reading, the tiniest of frowns creasing her forehead. Tzuyu feels an inexplicable urge to poke at it with her finger until it disappears, or to maybe tell Dahyun about the dangers of wrinkles. She’s mulling over the words in her head, tripping over Korean syllables and syntax, but then Dahyun breaks the silence first instead.

“Sleep, Tzuyu-yah,” Dahyun intones simply, without looking away from her book. Her voice is quiet, carries no glimmer of the infectious energy she’s known for on stage or in front of a camera lens.

Yet, it offers Tzuyu the exact kind of soothing comfort she so desperately needs; the kind that helps her heart to settle into steady, even beats as the tension seems to unfurl itself from her bones in a tide of relief. 

Tzuyu falls asleep against the tiny window pane, dreaming of the whisper that waves make as they brush against the weathered hull of a little boat.

 

She startles awake some time later, disoriented and more than a little sleep-drunk. It takes a while for Tzuyu to register that there’s still hours more of sky for their plane to fly over. It takes her even longer to register the fuzzy blanket tucked neatly around her, and the mug on her tray table. Chocolate milk, still lukewarm. 

Tzuyu sips the milk slowly, staring at the constellation of stars outside the small window. In the reflection, there’s Dahyun with blurred soft edges; fast asleep with her mouth hanging slightly open and glasses a crooked line over the bridge of her nose. 

Quietly, carefully, Tzuyu reaches over and tugs on the round frames, gently removing them. A soft smile tugs in turn on the corner of her lips when Dahyun sniffles, mumbling a little in her sleep.

/

Tzuyu flops down onto her back the moment Momo switches off the music and calls it a day. She’s a sweaty, sticky mess in need of a long shower but cannot really find the strength to move. 

A shadow shades her vision of the ceiling lights and Tzuyu blinks, taking a second too long to recognise the familiar curve of Dahyun’s smile, brimming with a tenderness that reminds Tzuyu of the first sunlit day after winter. 

She can’t quite piece together why Dahyun is in their practice room at all. But Dahyun’s hair is up in a messy bun and she’s in her favourite red sweat pants - the one she favours for dance practice - so Tzuyu deduces she must have just been practising for her own solo stage too.

Dahyun offers a hand, and says nothing when Tzuyu latches on a little too hard, trusting in Dahyun to pull her up, which the other girl does with practiced ease. There’s an opened bottle of water pressed into Tzuyu’s hands, and then the crinkle of a wrapper before a choco pie is pressed into her hands too. 

“Beyoncé is hard,” Tuzyu mumbles around a mouthful of choco pie, words coming out all muffled.

Dahyun’s eyes crinkle at the mess of chocolate crumbs that spray all over, and without prompting, brushes them off Tzuyu’s chin. She looks torn, on the verge of swallowing back giggles at the way Tzuyu has flushed red from the embarrassment of sending crumbs flying everywhere. 

It takes a fraction of a second, and then Dahyun’s eyes turn into a crystalline lake, layers deep and carrying a kind of tranquil beauty. 

“You’ll be _amazing_ , Chou Tzuyu.”

It’s not the way Dahyun pronounces her full name, with perfect intonation in all the right places. It’s not the way Dahyun emphasises _amazing_ , as though she can speak it into reality if she adds just enough weight. 

What makes Tzuyu smile and her heart settle into steady, even beats, is the way Dahyun says the entire sentence, wrapped around a voice full of quiet conviction. 

There has always been a calmness in Dahyun that Tzuyu finds herself drawn to; she with her inability to express herself in words, finds a certain kind of solace in the serene pull of Dahyun’s gravity.

/

It’s too early in the morning for all nine of them to be up at once, especially when it’s technically their day off. Yet, here they all are, squeezed haphazardly into a foyer with space meant only for the width of shoe cupboards.

There’s a happy glow in Chaeyoung’s eyes that sparkle, even with the lack of sleep. It’s a look Tzuyu knows is mirrored on her own face, as is the matching dimpled smile that creates a symmetry out of both her and Chaeyoung’s cheeks.

Nayeon hands both of them flowers, with a carefully penned note cradled among the blooms of colour. Tzuyu's bouquet is different from Chaeyoung’s, but each is a perfect fit; it’s a measure of how effortlessly Nayeon (or any of the others really) knows every inch of their hearts.

Tzuyu only feels an overwhelming tsunami of affection and love flood over her in unrelenting waves, as everyone begins to fuss over both of them. There are unidentifiable hands smoothing out invisible wrinkles on her blazer, tugging the knot of her tie perfectly straight, carding through the newly dyed locks of her hair.

And then there is a flurry of movement and the softest of kisses pressed to her cheeks and her temple, before her unnies disappear back to their rooms. And then there is Dahyun, in that yellow checkered pants of hers and an oversized shirt three sizes too big.

Dahyun reaches out, takes Tzuyu’s right hand and seamlessly intertwines their fingers. Then reaches for one of Chaeyoung’s hands and tangles their fingers together too.

Tzuyu doesn’t really have the time to wonder what it means that Dahyun naturally reaches for her hand first. She’s a little too busy drinking in the way Dahyun’s eyes are the prettiest crescent moons that somehow doesn’t distract from the golden light of her sunshine smile.

This is the smile Dahyun reserves only for moments behind the scenes, when she’s not Twice’s Dahyun or living up to an idol persona. This is the smile Dahyun offers at her most unfiltered, her most genuine. Tzuyu feels a little wrong-footed by it, even though she’s spent most of the past few years sharing a life with Dahyun. 

“Congratulations on graduating, you two,” Dahyun murmurs, then squeezes both their hands impossibly tight. “But remember, School Meal Club is forever, okay? No matter what. Because _we’re destiny._ "

As with everything else Dahyun does when she’s just _Dahyun_ , it’s a quiet declaration, yet anchored with a solid, unwavering kind of sureness. 

And like all the times before, Tzuyu’s heart settles into steady, even beats. Ones that echo the calm serenity that is Dahyun entirely.

/ 

It takes Tzuyu a while to learn that love, in its truest form, is this; right here in the balcony of a hotel room in the heart of a foreign city, with Dahyun looking at Tzuyu like she wants to steal every star in the sky and place them in the cradle of Tzuyu’s palms.

Love is nothing at all like the movies. Love, to Tzuyu at least, is not a burst of technicolour fireworks or a flurry of never-ending butterflies. Love is simple and still, everything that is found in Dahyun’s quiet surety, and in the beauty of her serene gravity. 

It’s impossible to fight the urge, so Tzuyu gives herself up to it, and presses a kiss right on the corner of Dahyun’s lips. She catches the edges of a smile that’s a million times more precious because it’s the one Dahyun reserves only for _her._

Love, in its truest form, is this; a breath, a sense of calm, a warm feeling that spreads from the tips of Tzuyu’s fingers to take root deep in her heart. And then there is the familiar way her heart settles into steady, even beats.

**Author's Note:**

> @skyclectic on twitter and cc. yeah, that happened. so, come say hi or ask me stuff :)


End file.
